


The First Night

by AJWmagickl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: All the Smut, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hopefully kinda sweet and a little sassy too., M/M, Much smut., Rimming, So many smuts.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 13:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8145958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJWmagickl/pseuds/AJWmagickl
Summary: After the war against Negan and the saviors, Daryl and Paul finally have a night to consummate the relationship that's been building between them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here. Duck!! *Throws the story at your head*  
> I've never written love or sex scenes so please be gentle.   
> And of course, I don't own any part of the story or characters in The Walking Dead. If I did I'd be writing this from a beach while drinking a margarita instead of from my couch with a pit bull snoring on my lap.

Daryl lay face down on the bed, his arms resting beneath a pillow. He breathed quietly, perhaps a little nervously, the scars on his back lifting and falling softly with each breath. He might've been asleep, but Jesus knew better. 

They could have been celebrating, many of the survivors from Hilltop, Alexandria and The Kingdom were doing just that. It was the first night in almost a year that they would be able to sleep peacefully, without fear of attack from Negan and his men. The war was over. Negan sat rotting in the sole cell of Alexandria's jail. 

At Hilltop, security had relaxed to almost pre-war standards, and light talking and laughter floated across the grounds to Barrington House. The feeling of relief was palpable, and both Daryl and Jesus certainly felt it, but they'd had enough of crowds through the battles they'd fought, entire communities of people they'd helped to evacuate when the war had reached its peak.

Tonight was, for the first time, just for the two of them.

They'd hoped that this time would come, feared more than once that one or both of them wouldn't survive to see it. They'd spoken of it in sometimes in hushed tones, through earnest glances, the occasional stolen touch in those briefest of moments, especially when they had to part to take up their roles as leaders in their separate communities.

It started with a "Take care of yourself."

Then a slightly more serious, "Be careful."

A crooked smile, and "Don't forget to come back."

Then, "Please come back to me.", spoken between fervored kisses as hands roamed wildly, before one of them had to step away from the shadows and join their group.

They never talked about trying to hide their slowly building relationship from their communities, but they both understood discretion. And when everything they did was for the group, having something that fell under the radar felt safe, like crawling into a warm cave during a storm. 

And if that was true, then tonight, alone together in Jesus' room in The Hilltop's mansion, was the eye of the hurricane. They'd been through every horror imaginable since the world turned, and more would come. But hopefully not tonight.

"Daryl", whispered Jesus, sitting on the bed and running his hand across the hunter's muscular arms, goosebumps on Daryl's skin rising to chase the trail of his touch. He leaned over to kiss the hunter's shoulder, before moving to straddle his hips. Daryl was naked, and Jesus sans shirt and boots, his jeans opened and unzipped.

Earlier, they'd bid goodbye to several of their comrades from Alexandria and The Kingdom, as the groups began to filter back to their own communities to start the process of rebuilding. Daryl stayed at Hilltop temporarily to help oversee the redistribution of food, ammo and supplies the communities had reclaimed from the Sanctuary.

They'd watched the tall wooden gates of Hilltop close behind the last group, turning without a word to walk to the house, up the stairs, straight to Jesus' room. 

Daryl had followed Jesus through the door, closing it before sliding his hands around Jesus' waist from behind. He nuzzled the scout's long hair, breathing in the scent of him, peppering his clothed shoulder with small kisses, There was no reason to wait for anything anymore. Jesus leaned back into Daryl, moving tighter into the hunter's embrace. They stood like that for a moment, relishing the closeness, knowing that neither of them had to rush off to the next task.

Jesus had turned to face Daryl, kissing him lightly and long, brushing the unruly dark locks from his eyes to study his face, moving his hands to cup Daryl's cheeks as the hunter's hands slid to Jesus' hips. 

They took their time, not wanting to rush this opportunity, even though both men were warm and flushed in a matter of seconds. Long, unhurried kisses turned into a fevered twisting of tongues inside each other's mouths. Hands began to move in strokes and strides, sliding under clothing onto bare flesh. 

At some point, Daryl had started whispering Jesus' name. "Paul...Paul...oh god, Paul..." 

The intimacy of that name escaping the hunter's lips almost made Paul's legs buckle beneath him. He moved his hands to deftly unbutton Daryl's shirt, pushing it over his shoulders and letting it fall silently to the floor. Daryl had Paul's shirt off in what seemed like seconds after, as they melted into each other, mouths and bare skin and hard lines colliding. 

"I want to see you." Paul's voice was low and soft, as he nipped his hunter's ear, then ran his tongue down his neck to the crook of his shoulder.

All Daryl could do was murmur what seemed to be an agreement, and Paul's hands moved between them to unbutton the hunter's jeans. 

"Hold up." Daryl's voice was a growl, low and filled with heat. Paul stepped back slightly, removing his hands, fully prepared to tell Daryl that they could stop, that he didn't want to push this, that it was okay to take it as slowly as Daryl needed to. But The hunter didn't seem to have the same idea, because the next word out of his mouth was "Boots."

Daryl moved to sit in a Queen Anne's chair nearby, his broad frame and rugged appearance markedly contrasting the light striped silk and delicate frame of the chair. He unlaced the leather straps on his lower legs, freeing up the legs of his jeans, and pulled his boots and socks off in quick motions. 

Paul kicked off his own boots where he was standing, but never took his eyes off the beautiful man across from him.

Daryl stood, a moment of shyness overtaking him. He blushed lightly under Paul's lustful gaze as those eyes the color of sea glass scanned his entire body before meeting the stormy blue of Daryl's own eyes.

When their gaze locked, Daryl seemed to gather his courage. Remaining where he stood, several feet in front of Paul, Daryl finished opening his jeans and unzipped them. Without fanfare, he pulled his jeans and boxers off and kicked them onto the floor.

Paul had to focus on not letting his mouth gape open. He'd never expected this kind of confidence from the shy redneck, especially in this kind of situation. His heart leapt with the realization of how much this man, whose trust could only be earned through time and hard experience, trusted him.

Well, that...and the fact that Daryl was standing completely naked in front of him, his breathing erratic, his hair tousled from Paul's hands, his cock growing rigid under the scout's eyes. It was obvious to Paul that Daryl had no need to lack confidence in his body, it was pretty fucking perfect in its imperfection. 

Before Paul could finish drinking in every inch of the hunter's skin, Daryl closed the space between them and pulled him in close, pushing his hardening cock against Paul's jeans before moving his hand between them to stroke the younger man's erection through the fabric that was suddenly very thick, very binding, and very much in the way. 

As if he'd read Paul's mind, Daryl opened the scout's jeans, slipping his hand between the denim and the thin fabric of his boxers, stroking, earning a deep moan from the other man as his head fell against Daryl's shoulder, his long hair spilling across chest, fingers digging into the hunter's waist before sliding down across the firm skin of his ass. 

Daryl shuddered, removing his hand from Paul's cock to slip his jeans down, but Paul stopped him with his hand. 

He stepped back slightly to look straight into Daryl's eyes. "There's something...something I want to do.", he said, a slight uncertainty in his voice. He'd been thinking about this for a long time, since the first time they were on a run together and he had inadvertently caught a glance at Daryl's bare back as he washed off in a creek. He hadn't, and wouldn't, forget the deep stripes that crossed Daryl's back. The scars were old, much older than the apocalypse, and it was the first idea Paul had of Daryl's past. Much later, Daryl had hinted about his father's cruelty, and the scout understood exactly where those scars came from. 

"Will you lie down?" Paul didn't take his eyes off the hunter's curious, flushed face as he took his hand and led him to the bed. "On your stomach". 

Daryl hesitated, then complied. He knew Paul had seen the scars, however briefly, so there was nothing to hide. 

His knees pressing into Daryl's hips as the scout sat atop him, the room fell quiet for a moment. Paul leaned forward, pressing his chest to Daryl's back, extending his arms to brush long fingers through the hunter's hair. Soon, those same fingers began to caress Daryl's neck, lingering on his broad shoulders, a trail of light kisses following the touch. 

Paul moved his way down Daryl's back, using hands and tongue to touch and kiss every inch, scarred and not. Scooting down from Daryl's hips, he kept kissing across the hunter's lower back. When his fingers began to feather lightly across Daryl's ass, the hunter let out a low, drawn out moan, burying his face in the pillow, lifting his hips up slightly off the mattress, encouraging the other man to continue. 

The moan almost undid Paul, who was relishing every bit of the hunter's warm flesh as if it were priceless. And it was, to him. This moment, these touches, this intimacy, they had come close to losing this opportunity so many times. And the world being what it is, who knows which time would be the last, even if it was the first. Both men were hyperaware of the cost of living now, and that knowledge sweetened every interaction between them whether they were hunting game together or, well, doing what they were doing now. 

Paul's cock was hard and throbbing at the sight and sounds of everything that was Daryl Dixon beneath him. Moving to the hunter's side, he stretched out and kicked his jeans and boxers to the foot of the bed. Daryl turned to face him, rolling slightly onto his side. 

The look between them was different than before. Pupils blown, sweat beading on their faces, sweet caresses had fueled a hard lust. Daryl slid an arm around Paul's waist, pulling him close, crashing their mouths together in a display of unexpected passion. They filled each other's mouths with moans, as legs tangled together and their pelvises began to move in an eager rhythm against each other, cocks growing fully rigid between them. 

"Holy fuck,", moaned Daryl as he pulled away from the younger man, panting and already feeling the effects of just how long it had been since he'd been with anyone, man or woman, and never like this. The younger man set every nerve ending on fire with a look, and now that they were here, in Paul's bed, all lips and skin and sweat and hands and hardness, the hunter knew he wouldn't last as long as he wanted to. 

His eyes must've said so, because as slender fingers traced Daryl's jawline, the scout smirked and said, "That's what happens when you spend three years jacking off in the woods." He smiled that big smile, the one that always drew Daryl away from the world and into Paul, only Paul.

"Hmmph," snorted Daryl, his breathing a bit more steady now, his hand moving lightly over the other man's bicep, "You sound like you might know what you're talkin' about there."

"Oh, I do." Paul nodded and laughed. "I most definitely do. It's not like there's a lot of chances for anything when monsters are popping out from every corner." His smile softened, his eyes gazing into Daryl's. "We have all night, you know," he twisted his fingers into Daryl's dark hair, "to start catching up on all that lost time."

"To start?", Daryl teased, moving his hand to the back of Paul's neck and pulling him close. "So we're just starting something, huh?"

"Just starting." Paul's already-swollen lips barely grazed Daryl's as he spoke. 

Paul's thumbs traced over the scarce beard along Daryl's jawline, giving them both time to breathe. Their pace relaxed as he gently kissed the hunter's lips, then moved light, staccato kisses across his cheek, pushing back the long dark locks of fine hair to breathe into his ear. 

Daryl moaned softly at the sensation, holding perfectly still as if the slightest movement could cause this moment to shatter like glass, disappearing and leaving him back in that other world...the world he'd always known. That world was violent and angry, the only intimacy delivered by the rough edge of a belt or heavy alcohol-laden breath forced upon him, screaming obscenities and threats. Sex in the old world was perfunctory at best, and usually experienced through a haze of drugs and alcohol. 

The new world, full of blood and death, had not been wholly unkind to Daryl. He found himself almost unwittingly valued and accepted, and even loved by Rick and the people he had come to call family. He was part of them in a way he'd never imagined possible. They had drawn him slowly out of his past, letting the better parts of himself emerge. 

Then he met Paul. Despite his best attempts, much of his remaining facade had crumbled as the younger man patiently waited out his attempts to run, to disconnect. The fact that Paul was currently nibbling on his earlobe was testament to the fact that Daryl had let himself change. Somewhere deep in his gut, a small part of him knew how much courage that had taken on his part, but it was all lost and unimportant now, because Paul was moving his mouth down Daryl's neck, planting slow wet kisses and nipping at his flesh with white teeth, his hands gripping Daryl's broad shoulders. 

Someone whimpered and gasped for air. Daryl had no idea which one of them it was, lost as he was in every sensation Paul aroused in his body. Suddenly he was willing to move. His hand that had lain still on Paul's back for several moments grasped hard against the younger man's skin, moving up to his shoulders then sliding down to knead his firm ass. He pulled Paul into him, thrusting their cocks together and holding them there, deepening the intensity of their arousal. 

Paul's moan was guttural and savage. He threw his head back as Daryl dove on to his neck, his hard kisses punctuated with hot breaths, eliciting hoarse moans from both men that Paul would have happily drowned in. His initial shock at Daryl's confidence had been replaced by an understanding; the hunter was, after all, a man who felt everything deeply. Paul would've chided himself for not expecting the hunter's baser instincts to override his shyness, but just then Daryl's hand moved over his hip to brush lightly between his legs, and there was no blood left in his brain for things like chiding. 

The rough hand moved slowly up Paul's shaft, teasing across the head of his cock, a thumb smoothing the bead of pre-cum at the tip. The younger man's head fell against Daryl's shoulder when his grasp tightened around Paul's cock, stroking him firmly. 

Daryl kissed the top of Paul's head. "That's it, Paul, do ya like that?" He twisted his hand at the top of the stroke, and Paul responded with a gasp and a fervent nod. Daryl grasped his hair and pulled his head back from his shoulder. "I wanna see you, babe. I wanna see your face."

His mouth agape and panting, Paul's opened eyes filled with such an expression of yearning that Daryl's own eyes began to sting. No one had ever looked at him like that in his whole life. 

Surging with want, Daryl released his grip on Paul's cock and pushed the smaller man flat against the bed, using one hand to wrap Paul's wrists together above his head, balancing on the other hand, allowing space between them. His darkened eyes raked the younger man's body, scanning down between their torsos to the place where their rigid cocks lay against each other liked crossed swords. 

"Fuck, Daryl.", breathed Paul, as the hunter's mouth moved hungrily against his neck, his hand releasing Paul's wrists, closing the gap between them when he wrapped his arms around his lover. He moved his lips down Paul's body, only looking up to catch Paul's eyes when he reached that trail of hair that started at his belly button. 

The lust on Daryl's face was that of a predator who had just sighted his dinner after many days of searching. A wicked grin tugged the corners of his mouth just before he caught the tip of Paul's cock with his tongue, licking the slit there and down the shaft, not touching Paul with his lips until he reached his balls and took one into his mouth, sucking. His hands gripped Paul's thighs. 

"Awww fuck, Daryl!", yelped Paul, thrusting his hips into air. "Babe please, please..." He was coming undone by that mouth, his hands raking through the hunter's hair, breath shallow and erratic. 

Daryl didn't make him beg for long. Working his lips up Paul's length, his tongue slid around the base of the head, he moved up to lap the salty fluid flowing from the tip, and took all of Paul into his mouth, grasping the scout's hips and holding him in place while he sucked and stroked, gagging be damned. 

Paul reeled, his entire body shuddering and he even wondered if he blacked out for a second. He was used to being in control of every situation, it had come to be expected of him by the survivors at Hilltop. He was the one who kept his cool and mediated other's emotions to keep the peace when he could. Hell, it was one of the reasons people started calling him Jesus, because he could always be counted on to maintain what was admittedly, at times, a facade of serenity. And even in bed, it was his skills that turned his lovers to jelly in his hands, his libido that took charge. 

That was all gone now, as an untamed and long neglected side of himself was let loose by the wolf in his bed. All he wanted now was to be devoured. He wasn't sure what Daryl had just let out of the cage, but he had a feeling that the hunter knew exactly what he was doing. 

"Fucking redneck...", he groaned in defeat. 

Daryl grinned again and pulled off of Paul long enough to whet two fingers in his mouth. He wasted no time in sliding his hand between Paul's ass cheeks, nudging a slicked fingertip against his hole. A rush of heat flamed down Paul's entire body. He lifted his head to see Daryl watching him as he pushed his finger past the ring of muscle, moving slowly to allow Paul to adjust. 

The scout's head fell back on his pillow as he arched, pushing onto Daryl's hand. After a few strokes inside that wet heat, Daryl added a second finger, scissoring, adjusting the angle of his wrist to press against Paul's sweet spot. 

Paul let out a sound that was part whimper, part worship, as Daryl stroked that spot again and again before adding a third finger. 

His mind numb from surprise and pleasure, Paul should've known better than to try to speak coherently. "Daryl...babe..." he panted, hoping his voice didn't sound as weak to the hunter's ears as it did to his own. "I'm gonna...you gotta...I wanna...", he gave up with a sigh as Daryl slid his fingers out of Paul's ass and moved himself up to hover over Paul, kissing the wrecked man mercilessly. 

Daryl needed a moment. As much as he'd enjoyed pulling Paul to pieces, the hunter had almost undone himself in the process. The sounds of the other man's pleasure, his hands grabbing at Daryl with need had Daryl rock hard and throbbing, close to the edge more than once. 

"Goddam hippie.", he mumbled into the scout's mouth, eliciting a laugh as their tongues played together. 

Paul reached to the bedside table to retrieve a bottle of lube from the top drawer. Daryl nodded, straightening up to rest on his knees. Paul's legs moved to either side of Daryl without conscious thought. He leaned up from the bed, pouring lube on his hands before tossing the bottle onto the nightstand. 

The hunter inhaled sharply and dropped his head back, holding Paul's forearms as hands closed around him, slicking his cock. 

"Aw shit," moaned Daryl, thrusting lightly into Paul's hands, "I wanna be inside you so bad, man."

"I want it too. I want your cock.", the younger man moaned. "C'mon, babe. Let's do this." Paul's voice was quiet but urgent. He laid back on the bed, shifting to bring his knees higher, positioning himself perfectly below Daryl. 

Pulling Paul's hips up slightly, the hunter took his own thick girth in hand, lining up his tip to slowly pierce the muscles of Paul's hole. Both men went quiet for a moment, barely breathing as Daryl moved his way into Paul, stopping a couple of times to allow the other man's tunnel to stretch. 

"Oh GOD," groaned Daryl as he pushed all the way in. He collapsed forward, turning their hips so that the tip of his cock hit that bundle of nerves that made Paul shudder violently and push against Daryl even harder. 

"Ain't gonna last long, Paul", rasped the hunter, "you feel too good. Ungh...so...tight."

"Fuck me, Daryl, go hard, babe. I want to feel every inch of you."

Sweat poured off their slick bodies as Daryl laid on top of Paul and began to thrust. He moved carefully at first, but soon Paul grabbed his hips and pulled him in deep, begging him to move faster. Daryl felt the pressure building in his groin and threw caution to the wind, thrusting into Paul with hard, fast strokes, Paul moving his hips to meet each one. 

For Paul, nothing could have felt better than to let go and give himself to Daryl with abandon. He let the older man take him, every nerve ending in his body blistering as the hunter grunted with low growls at every thrust, his head buried against Paul's shoulder. 

The growling turned to panting, whining, both men reaching their boiling point. Paul gripped his own cock, pumping in rhythm with Daryl until their dance became erratic and wild. He dug the fingers of his other hand into the hunter's back as he came, crying out Daryl's name, ribbons of cum shooting onto his belly. 

That was it for Daryl. Being inside Paul was the most intense pleasure he'd ever felt. But when Paul tightened, his orgasm rocking the muscles that surrounded Daryl's cock, the hunter lost himself. Raising his head, he whimpered, and had no doubt this time that the sound came from his own throat. He pushed in deep and held still as white hot cum streamed out of him and into Paul. He moved again to draw them both through their orgasms before falling into his lover's arms. 

"Holy mother fuckin' shit." panted Daryl after a few moments, chuckling as he rolled to the side and gathered Paul to him. They both fell into a better sleep than either of them could remember, even though they woke each other several times in the dark night to kiss and fuck and fondle. Daryl took a few minutes each time Paul fell back to sleep to listen to him breathe, to stroke his hair and wonder at how in the hell he, a fucked up redneck who somehow managed to survive the end of the world, could be so damn lucky.

 

********

"I'm not gonna be able to walk for a week. And I need food.", whined Daryl into his pillow. The morning sun filtered through the part in the heavy curtains framing the window. 

"Me neither and me too," sighed Paul, and they both snickered at the utter exhaustion and contentment in his voice. "Hang on..."

The rustling of covers and a sudden lack of the warm body pressed against his side made Daryl turn his head, to see the younger man working his way to the edge of the bed, on his stomach like an inchworm. his head and upper torso disappearing as he reached to rummage under the bed. His ass, having wormed its way out from under the covers, was in full view & Daryl smacked it with a solid slap, making Paul jump and then burst into laughter. 

"Watch it, Dixon," he was trying to sound authoritarian but the mirth in his voice gave him away, "That shit goes both ways. You smack my ass, I get to smack yours." 

"'S that so?" teased the hunter, leaning over to give Paul's ass another good slap. 

The scout scoffed in mock indignation as he squirmed his upper half back onto the bed. Daryl caught the back of his upper thighs with his hands, moving his mouth from the back of Paul's knees up to his ass with small, easy licks and kisses. 

Paul's breath hitched, his back arching as Daryl lightly skimmed his fingers up his crack, spreading his cheeks. 

"So that goes for everything?" Daryl's voice was low, quiet. "Whatever I do to you, you do to me?" Without waiting for an answer, he ran his tongue over Paul's ass, pressing against the pucker there and slowly tonguing his way inside. 

"Anything you want, baby." moaned the scout. "Any. Damn. Thing."

Daryl gently moved his mouth back down to Paul's legs, then completely took him by surprise with one more slap to his ass. 

Rolling back against his pillow, Daryl said almost mournfully, "I want breakfast."

Immediately, two bottles of water, two protein bars, and a small package of cheese puffs landed on the mattress right next to him. Paul "Jesus" Rovia rolled over with a huge grin on his face. 

"You were prepared for this, huh?" laughed Daryl, catching his gaze for an almost imperceptible moment, only to fall deeper in love with this man whose eyes sparkled with mischief and kindness. 

"Well, you know how it goes", grinned Paul, shrugging. "Ask and you shall receive."

Both men propped up on their sides against the pillows, facing each other. Paul watched as Daryl tore into the cheese puffs first and tossed a handful into his mouth. His face gave the slightest expression of distaste as he started to chew. 

"Stale?", asked Paul, his eyes laughing as he picked up a protein bar, fumbling with the wrapper. 

"They're fine," mumbled Daryl, neither man believing he was telling the truth as he swallowed the snack with a grimace.

His eyes caught caught Paul's, as he moved his hand under the scout's chin, moving a thumb across his flushed cheek. "Thank you." 

"For crappy protein bars and stale cheese snacks?" 

"For everything. For being here. For wantin' to be with me." Daryl's eyes couldn't quite meet his lover's, his shyness getting the better of him, but he meant everything he said and knew that the other man wouldn't doubt it. 

"Hey," It was Paul's hand that lifted Daryl's chin this time. "It took a fucking apocalypse to find you, and a damn war before I could truly have you. There's nothing else I want in the world, except to be with you." The scout spoke sincerely, his eyes a bit glassy as he ran his fingers through Daryl's hair. 

They kissed softly for a moment, tasting each other before Paul pulled back. "Crap. Those cheese puffs are awful!" He drew his face up in disgust. 

"They're not so bad." Daryl replied, leaning back and popping another handful into his mouth. He glanced at Paul from the side, a snide smile turning the corners of his mouth up. 

"What?" 

"I'm just sayin'", Daryl washed the snacks down with a large gulp of water. 

"Sayin' what?" The younger man's eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

"I'm just sayin' that the real Jesus would've done better than a fucking bag of cardboard cheese puffs."

"Asshole." Paul swiped the bag from the hunter's hand and handed him a protein bar, "I'm fresh out of fishes and loaves."

"Then why is it I keep you around? 

"Do I need to remind you?" the scout asked, waggling his eyebrows. 

Daryl bit his lower lip, tossed the protein bar onto the nightstand, and reached across to fist his hand into Paul's hair. He shook his head. "Naw, you don't. You never will." 

He brushed his lips across Paul's, his next words spoken in a whisper, "It ain't what you do for me, y'know. It's...it's who I can be when I'm with you."

Paul kept his mouth within millimeters of Daryl's as he whispered, "And who are you when you're with me?"

Daryl drew back to look into his lover's eyes, his hand gently brushing against the scout's cheek. "I'm somebody who has a home. You're my home."

Paul pulled Daryl's bruised lips back to his, luring him in to a deep, languid kiss. After a moment, they broke apart, a shy smile playing across the hunter's face, and both men laughed when their stomachs growled at the same time. 

"Think we should take a moment to finish our gourmet breakfast?", smirked Paul. 

"Hell yeah," replied Daryl as he leaned back into the pillow again. He was still smiling. "After all, we're just getting started, right?"


End file.
